Memories
by Hiyume
Summary: Autobalance is a strange thing... they'd always feared it would screw up. But not like this. SniperxScout. Rated mostly for language. -Complete-
1. Seeing Stars

**A/N: **Request from petite-choufleur on Tumblr, my 30th follower c: She wanted some Sniper and Scout fluff, so here it is.

This was supposed to be one chapter, but my brain is stupid and always underestimates the length of every fic I write. This was ten pages, which is my usual maximum for a chapter length.

Hope you enjoy~

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Team Fortress 2. It belongs to Valve.

Autobalance is a strange thing. Neither teams really understand it. All they know is that one day someone disappears, and the next time they seem him is on the battlefield, wearing the enemy's color.

Sniper knows this firsthand. Probably understands the process the most, being a victim of the cycle. He originally joined RED about two years ago, and since then has been autobalanced once. From RED to BLU. It's… weird—waking up in the opposing base, in an identical room, in identical clothing, but different colors—but at the same time not strange at all. Because he forgets. When there is autobalance, there is the liberty of forgetting. Forgetting everyone on the opposing team, every memory you had with them. It's probably a good thing, anyway. He doesn't have to regret shooting who could possibly have been a friend in the face.

But he can't help but wonder, sometimes, if they really were close to him at all. But it doesn't really matter. That is, until Sudden Death.

No one is ever sure when it will happen. One day the respawn system will just… stop working. That's when his life is really on the line. If he's shot, he's dead. It's not just a sick game anymore. It's war.

There's always autobalance right after a Sudden Death round. One team loses more members than the other, someone (sometimes more than one) is forced to join them. Losing someone is strange, too. He doesn't remember them. He just knows that someone was taken away. Last time it was the Demoman. Sniper didn't sulk over it. He's used to autobalance now.

But then Sudden Death happens again. It's only five days after the last—the quickest Sniper's ever known it to happen.

RED seems just as surprised. BLU kills their Sniper (a new recruit; what a shame) and Scout. No other casualities are taken. Two and zero. Everyone knows that autobalance will take someone.

That night BLU has a campfire in the courtyard of their fort. They drink, they laugh, Engineer plays a few songs, Soldier tells stories… and they hope that autobalance will not happen. That despite the fact that the pain of losing someone will not exist after that person is gone, they can't help but look around the circle and wonder if it will be the last time they see each other like this. No bullets. No war. Just peace.

So the night goes on, the campfire dies out, and everyone goes their own way… except Sniper. He stands by the dying embers, watching as ashes crackle and pop while he takes a long drag from his cigarette. He knows he won't be able to sleep. Not because of losing someone, though. He knows that he'll be autobalanced. Just by his two-year experience he could replace two people.

As he smokes, he wonders. He wonders if those from RED will remember him when he goes back. If he'll remember them in return. Would he have a welcoming party? Or would it just be a few handshakes with greetings and introductions?

Would he be a stranger to everyone?

His smoke dies out and he sighs, dropping the butt into the small fire pit. His eyes drift to the sky. The stars. Every constellation memorized in his head. And he wonders even more. When did this happen?

When did he become so damn sentimental?

He closes his eyes, stars sparkling above him, a bluish hue leaking passed his eyelids. But then that slowly flades. Everything becomes black, muted. He can't speak. Can't scream. Weightlessness.

Autobalance carries him off into a world of nothing.

* * *

When he opens his eyes, he sees red. A red ceiling, and a red glove from the corner of his eye. He turns to look. Medic. RED Medic.

Memories flood his mind. Light-hearted checkups, sharing life experiences, even getting scolded when the German was in a bad mood. He finds that he is relieved. He remembers. A smile plays on his lips.

"Morning, doc. You miss me?" Medic's usual frown perks up into the slightest hint of a smirk.

"_Guten tag_, Sniper. It has been some time, yes?" he replies, making a gesture for the bushman to sit up. He does so as the doctor pulls out a few medical supplies. Sniper can't help but examine his RED uniform and how foreign it feels. It'll take a while for him to unconsciously shoot blue instead of red. He'll have to be careful with his aim.

"Yeah. Six months, I think." It's just then that he realizes what little time he spent with BLU. Just a quarter of his recruitment. He reminisces as Medic passes a light over his eyes and checks his heartbeat. Regular procedure, making sure that autobalance didn't screw up. Not that it ever had before.

A few minutes of testing and catching up pass by, and Sniper is let out of the medic bay. The moment he leaves he is bombarded by cheers. Heavy is there, along with Pyro. Everyone else is there, too, but they're quiet. They don't know him. Even the Demoman remembers him, but only the fact that they were both on BLU a few days ago.

More memories flood through as he introduces himself to the members that had joined RED in the last six months. He looks at those faces and he remembers who used to fill that space. Their old Engineer, the listener, the one he always went to when he felt depressed because the hardhat honestly listened to everything Sniper had to say. The Soldier, with his strict and yet kind sort of encouragement, kicking Sniper's ass enough to get him back up without leaving any unnecessary bruises on his ego. Even the Spy, always sparing him that extra cigarette, brooding along with him, the two jabbing at each other like brothers would.

And the Scout? He never really knew him. He was just that loud voice talking constantly behind everyone, filling the silence in an annoying but pleasant way. Never talked to him. Never bothered to get to know the kid.

Now there was no one to get to know.

Only now, in that moment of shaking the hands of strangers and the small cheers of old friends, does Sniper realize how quiet it is.

* * *

There is a full week of ceasefire after that round of Sudden Death, which is a pleasant surprise. It gives Sniper a chance to get to know the newer REDs. Or not. He finds out that the Spy is a bit more secluded than the previous one, shying away from most conversation. Engineer is less patient and a lot less willing to put down his work to talk. The Soldier just scowls a lot. Heavy is joyful as always, but gets bored unless the conversation is about Sasha. Medic is okay, too, but he's often caught up in filling out charts and most small talk turns into a check up. Pyro mumbles, so it's hard to understand what he's saying. Demoman is constantly drunk or passed out.

So Sniper finds himself alone most of that week, sitting on the battlements, cleaning his gun, smoking, taking long naps, thinking about something and yet nothing…

Then the train comes. It brings rations, letters, ammo, but also a new recruit.

A Scout.

The eight that comprise the RED team go to meet him as he hops off the train. Sniper can already see the cockiness in his step; the ignorance in his smirk. It's a pleasant change to how dull the others are.

Engineer is the first to put out his hand.

"Howdy there, Scout," he greets, putting on a fake smile. Scout's smirk drops at the sight of his outstretched fingers. He lowers the bat that he had leaning against his shoulder and gently nudges his hand down with the cold metal.

"Yeah, whatever Hardhat," the Bostonian scoffs. The kid's just barely into his twenties. Sniper guesses he was one of the popular kids in college. Or high school. The attitude stuck with him.

He gives everyone else the same treatment. Laughs or scowls down at them. Not a good first impression. All of them leave, grumbling under their breaths. The last to greet Scout is Sniper. He tips his hat just a bit, but doesn't attempt a pasted grin.

"Good t'have you, mate. Getting boring around here," he says simply. Scout raises an eyebrow at his words.

"Yeah? How's that?"

Sniper shrugs. "S'quiet."

Scout's grin widens. "Well, you want noise," he balls his hand into a fist and points at his own chest with a thumb, "you're lookin' at the right man." Sniper can't help but twitch his mouth into a smirk.

"Alright. Go make some noise."

"You don't have to tell me twice." With that last remark, he nudges Sniper gently on the arm with his fist before sprinting into the base.

And damn could he run fast.

* * *

It's barely an hour after Scout's arrival that Sniper sees him again. The bushman sits in his regular spot, on the battlements, under the large windows of the roof in the center of the large balcony. He's practicing taking his gun apart and putting it back together when Scout walks by, slouched over, lower lip sticking out slightly in a pout.

"S'wrong, kid?" he asks. Scout turns, surprised. Probably not expecting anyone to be in that little nook.

"Who you calling a kid?" he shoots back. Sniper rolls his eyes behind his aviators.

"Sorry, mate." He returns to fixing his rifle. The younger looks distressed from being dismissed so quickly.

"Whatever." The Bostonian sits down next to him. "Man, everyone here is so _boring._"

"Told you it was quiet."

"Yeah, well quiet doesn't have to mean boring."

"Hmm."

The conversation ends once again, and an awkwardness fills the air. Frustrated, the Scout sets his bat out in front of him, rolling it back and forth on the wood. The rythmic sound it makes calms the Sniper a bit as he puts the final pieces of his gun back into place. He tests it, making sure the scope is set right, that the bolt slides back easily. He turns to the scout.

"Hey," he says, getting the boy's attention, "want to help me with some target practice?"

He looks horrified. "You wanna shoot me? Geez, man! What did I ever-"

"Calm down, I meant I was wondering if you'd be my throwing arm. You like baseball, yeah?" Scout's eyes light up like a kid on Christmas Morning.

"Shit yeah, man! Hold on." He's on his feet and gone before Sniper can so much as nod. Scout comes back with a large box of baseballs. He sets it down in the open space of the battlements. "Alright, let's do this!"

Sniper inspects his gun once more before standing up and putting the scope up to his right eye. "Ready when you are."

Scout's grin is wide as he takes a ball and readies his throwing arm. He pulls back as far as he can, and with all his strength, spins his shoulder around in an overhand throw. It whips through the air, carving clean through the wind and far passed the BLU's fort. Sniper eyes it, concentrating, trigger finger at the ready. The ball is nothing but a dot in his scope, but his aim is steady. He waits, and then…

_Bang._

A second later he sees the dot shred into bits of debris as the bullet hits it dead on. Sniper pulls the bolt back, letting the cartridge fall to the floor. Inspecting his gun again, he nods. Definitely working.

There is silence next to him. Odd. He turns to see why the kid has gone silent.

Scout's gawking at him, looking back and forth from him to where he threw the ball. Sniper raises his brow. "What?"

"Holy… Holy shit, dude! How did you hit that?" He flails his arms slightly, gesturing at the sky. Sniper shrugs.

"You don't survive out here two years without having some skill." A cocky smirk makes its way to his mouth. "I bet I could hit everything you throw."

Something is triggered in Scout's mind, because the look of awe is completely replaced by his ego. "Is that a challenge, wombat?"

Sniper laughs. Laughs for the first time in what seems like forever.

"Sure, wanker. Let's see what you can do."

He ends up having a good hour of target practice, and throughout Scout is swearing and mocking him, trying to distract him. But he hits everything he throws. By the end they have to put in a request for more baseballs the next time the train comes.

"Man, now I feel like shit." Scout mumbles under his breath angrily, wiping a bit of sweat from his brow. "I was goin' easy on you, alright? If I was being serious, all you'd see is a bunch of blurs!"

Sniper chuckles. "Sure. You believe that." He sighs and adds, "thanks, mate." Scout eyes him, brows furrowed.

"For what?"

"Makin' me happy. It's been a while." And he can't help but smile just a bit. Scout blinks.

"Wha-"

Whatever he was about to say is lost in the sirens that suddenly blare through the base. Sniper swears, and without thinking he grabs Scout's arm, pulling him towards the medic bay.

"Hey, what the hell? What's going on?"

But Sniper doesn't have to answer. The Announcer does it for him.

_"Mission begins in sixty seconds."_

* * *

The battle ends much more quickly than expected. BLU seems to be at a disadvantage now, since they have no Sniper and their Demoman is a new recruit, not to mention RED's new Scout. He's cocky for good reason.

He zips through the bases and collects the Intelligence three times in a row, not having to respawn. He even manages to destroy their Engineer's sentry a few times.

When the sirens ring to anounce their victory, Scout is heard wooping from the BLU's basement as he makes his way back upstairs. No one is there to congratulate him, though; they're all feeling, well… shown up.

Sniper meets him in the courtyard.

"How do you like that, wombat?" Scout grins, scattergun still at his side. "Bet'cha couldn't even see me!"

Sniper smiles back and puts on his best impression of the boy's accent. "You were like a friggin' blur!" Scout laughs and nudges him on the shoulder with his fist.

"Yeah, real funny!"

"You know I'm just kiddin' around." Sniper places a hand on Scout's back between his shoulder blades and gives him a few pats. "You did good out there, mate."

And maybe it's the way that he stares at the kid or lets his hand linger for just that extra moment, because suddenly Scout's grin transforms into the slightest hint of a grimace. He backs away from his fingers as if they will give him cancer.

"Yeah, thanks… _fag_." And he walks away, not once glancing back at the Aussie.

All Sniper can do is blink in confusion.

Fag? But why? He didn't mean it in that way. So maybe his hand _did_ linger, or he looked at him for a second too long. But he didn't mean it like _that_. He just felt connected for a second, and he got lost in that connection because it had been so _long_ since he felt anything like it.

Scout's reaction makes him wonder. Did the kid ever even feel that kind of connection? A moment where he realized _'Hey, we're undeclared buddies'_? Does he know what a buddy or friend is, or does he just treat everyone like they're tools? Lower than him?

Sniper shrugs, making his way up the courtyard stairs.

That must be a lonely existence.

* * *

Days pass—maybe even weeks—and Sniper doesn't see Scout anywhere but during battle. He doesn't see him on the battlements. Doesn't see him walking around the base. Doesn't even see him in the place they call a kitchen during mealtime. Doesn't ever hear him.

It's quiet again.

Sniper sits on the balcony, cleaning his glasses. Then his kukri. Then his rifle. And he does the process again, this time whistling to keep the silence from engulfing him. The air is so still today. No wind. The clouds seem to have frozen in place. But it's always like that, so why does he notice it now?

Sniper groans in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. Why does he care? He's an assassin. He's supposed to be alone. Supposed to not trust anyone. And yet he's stuck on that stupid little moment, hoping that Scout will come to his senses. Hoping he'll forgive him for… whatever he seems to have done wrong.

"Hey, fag."

The bushman looks up, surprised by the voice suddenly cutting through the stagnant atmosphere. Scout stands on the other side of the battlements. He's scowling, but the smallest bit of nervousness breaks through his tough expression. He's holding a half-assembled scattergun. Sniper raises a brow, the feeling of relief washing through him.

"S'been a while, mate."

"Yeah. Whatever," he scoffs, walking towards Sniper. "Hey, uh, everyone else is PMSing or some shit and my gun jammed yesterday so you have to fix it."

Sniper laughs a bit at the context and the way he demands instead of asks. Same old Scout. Sniper doesn't really mind the new suffix.

"Alright. Give it here."

Scout tosses the parts of the gun more than hands them over. Sniper inspects the pieces quietly as Scout crouches down a few feet away, his frown obvious even from the corner of the Aussie's eye.

There isn't anything wrong with the gun or the pieces. It's just dirty. Sniper guesses the kid hasn't cleaned it since he got here.

"You ever heard of the word 'cleaning'?" The bushman mocks, pulling out a rag that's mostly dirt-free from his pocket. Scout shoots him a glare, but listens as he explains how to properly maintain the gun and make sure it doesn't jam. The process takes a good twenty minutes because of the terrible shape the pieces are in, but at least now Scout won't have to worry about it jamming for a week. Sniper's surprised he hasn't commited suicide with the damn thing. He hands it back to the boy, who takes it eagerly before moving a step back. "You listened to what I was saying, yeah?"

"Pffft, right. I need it cleaned, I'll just bring it to Hardhat when he's not on his time of the month." Scout lets out a frustrated sigh, but before Sniper can shake his head and scold him, he says, "Uh… sorry about… before."

Sniper blinks at the kid, and he can tell that he's not used to apologizing. He's not looking at him or making any attempt to look sincere. Instead he's staring off to the side, glaring slightly at thin air. The older chuckles under his breath.

"S'alright." Scout nods and looks at his scattergun once more before marching off in the direction from which he came.

"Right well, see you later, fag!"

And Sniper smiles. Because Scout's words promise a 'later.'

* * *

He sees Scout a lot during the next month. At first it's just on the balcony for target practice and gun maintenance. Then he sees him more. Sees him in the kitchen, sees him in the halls, and eventually it feels like he's constantly there, that babbling voice always at his heels.

One time he even knocks on his door, and when Sniper lets him in, he sees that Scout is upset. There's a hint of unshed tears in his eyes. When Sniper asks him what's wrong, he shakes his head, and does something completely unexpected.

He asks for a hug.

A little perplexed, Sniper lets Scout slide into his arms. He never thought he'd see the kid like this, what with his tough exterior and huge ego. But suddenly he's crumbling, right here. He wants to ask what's wrong, but before he can, Scout starts muttering about his brothers and how his Ma always made the best chili in the world.

He's homesick.

So Sniper lets him babble on, nodding and humming at the appropriate moments, until Scout finally calms down. When Scout gets up he doesn't thank him or smile. Instead he threatens him, saying he'd regret it if anyone else found out. Sniper nods and promises not to say a word.

Instead of being awkward, though, Scout acts normal around the bushman. But there are those moments where he just kind of stops. Gives him a look. The same look Sniper gave him in the courtyard.

Not many days after Scout's small breakdown, the train comes again. It brings the usual rations, and the large container of baseballs they requested forever ago. But there's also a BLU letter. They all know what it means before they even open it.

Someone on BLU is gone, for whatever reason. Their contract ended. They were taken out of the war because they're too weak. Or a sickness. It doesn't matter. Someone is no longer there. They still don't have a Sniper. Two members missing.

Autobalance will happen tonight.

* * *

RED has a campfire, but it ends quickly. They don't find the need to talk. They're silent. Thinking about how little they know each other. Wondering what Class BLU lost. There aren't memories to share, at least none that they want to share.

So they all get drunk and go to bed. Except Sniper, as usual, sitting with his feet hanging off the battlements with a cigarette at his lips. But this time, Scout accompanies him.

The kid can definitely hold his liquor, but he's a lightweight. One beer and he's already smiling like an idiot and on the verge of passing out.

"So many stars…" the boy mumbles. He has his feet dangling off the edge as well, but he's lying back, his arms spread out as lights sparkle against his drowsy irises. Sniper hums his agreement, looking up. There are no clouds and no moon to obscure the light of the distant suns. He feels Scout try to poke him in the back, but its more a gentle brush because of his lack of coordination at the moment. "Hey, you know any… ah… pictures in the sky. What the hell are they called?"

Sniper chuckles. "Y'mean constellations? Why you want to know? Didn't think you'd like that kind of thing."

"Yeah, well," Scout sits up, propping himself up with his hands flat on the wood behind him, "I want to stay awake." He doesn't want to be autobalanced. Sniper smiles sadly. He knows that won't work. Just closing his eyes can autobalance him.

But he nods, turning to look at the sky and pointing at a line of three stars. "Well that right there'd be Orion's Belt. Now if you look at those stars you can see his sword and…"

"Where the fuck are you seeing this shit? They just look like dots."

"You connect 'em. See, that star…"

So Sniper explains, and he doubts Scout understands. At least he's trying. He points out Ursa Major, and Leo, and Gemini… but he knows Scout has tuned out his words. He's nodding slowly at awkward moments, eyes almost closed as he concentrates on the Aussie's voice but not what he's saying. So he keeps talking, just for the sake of talking. And when he's named all the stars he talks about where he learned these things. Talks about home life. Talks about what he did before coming to this place. Scout's not listening, but he's there. There to take in his voice. And when he's done it's silent, save for the crickets and their silent breathing.

"Hey." Sniper turns to Scout, startled, not expecting him to even be awake anymore. But when the bushman turns, he's right there, barely an inch from his face. And before he can so much as flinch Scout's lips are pressed hard against his own.

And he kisses him back, gently. Not sure if he wants this, but also not sure if he doesn't want it. Maybe it's the alcohol, but… it feels okay. Comfortable.

Scout's the first to break away, not so much backing up as slipping off of Sniper's face and landing on his chest. He sighs as sleep starts to take him.

"You're such a fag," he mumbles, muffled against Sniper's torso. The bushman grins.

"… Wanker."

They fall asleep under a blanket of a thousand suns.

* * *

Sniper wakes in his room. Not surprising. No matter where he falls asleep he's somehow teleported back to his bed. There's a slight pounding in his temple but not nearly enough to call it a hangover.

Memories from last night rush through him. The small campfire. The stars. Every constellation memorized… and Scout. A smile makes its way to his lips despite himself.

He's still RED. He still remembers Scout.

As he leaves his room, the promise of bacon and eggs beckons him towards the kitchen. Oh, that's good. Pyro's still here, too. He makes the best meals.

When he gets there, though, he stops. Everyone is eating, whether it be at the table or standing next to the counter, but… someone is missing.

"Something wrong?" Medic asks, sensing Sniper's hesitation. The Aussie frowns, brows furrowed.

"Where's Scout?"

Everyone looks up at him then, surprised. Confused. Demoman is the first to speak.

"He's on BLU, lad. Autobalance."

Sniper's blood runs cold. He tries to speak. Tries to deny it. Tries to tell them that he still remembers. But there's no use.

The silence stretches on.


	2. It's Quiet

**A/N: **Wow, I wrote the majority of this in one day.

That's not normal for me.

Anyway, hope you like C:

**Edit: **I'm really sorry to anyone who thinks the ending is not really an 'end,' but I won't be continuing this. I'm sorry :c Though I'm open to anyone making a sequel. Just send me message~

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Team Fortress 2. It belongs to Valve.

_I remember. I remember. I remember._

That's all Sniper can think now. That's the only reason he can deny that Scout is gone. The only proof he has. And yet that proof isn't enough to cut through the terrible silence that fills the fort. The silence that should be filled by someone… and yet is not.

So Sniper leaves the kitchen, breakfast forgotten. And he looks. He listens for that voice, those loud footsteps, _anything._ He's jogging through the fort, heart racing. He looks in all the places he's ever seen Scout.

Outside of the base, running laps.

No.

The battlements, waiting for Sniper

Not there, either.

Sniper's own room. Maybe he woke up after Sniper left for breakfast. Maybe he wants to talk.

But he's not there. Not anywhere.

The only place left is Scout's room. Maybe he really is just sleeping. Maybe that's why it's so quiet. The life, the energy, of their team is still unconscious.

His door is open. Sniper walks in. He doesn't call out. Doesn't warn of his presence. Just waits for the yells of protest, of Scout telling him to leave because it's not his room. But there is nothing.

His bed is empty, the sheets folded on top of the mattress. As though it's never been used. As if no one was there. Sniper looks at that empty bed, touches the pillow, hoping that he's just imagining it. But he's not. There's no one else there.

He is alone.

* * *

There is a ceasefire today. It's supposed to be a good thing. Not for Sniper.

There's nothing to keep Sniper distracted. Nothing to keep his mind off of the events that just took place.

The shock.

Why? Why can he still remember him? Why did autobalance not take his memory away?

Maybe whoever made the autobalance system didn't consider programming any memory deletion for someone who's been switched more than once. Maybe he's overthinking it and there was some kind of glitch. Maybe it's something that just can't be explained.

… Maybe Scout still remembers him.

Maybe he doesn't.

That's all he can think about the entire day. Hope. Denial. More hope.

It's just so weird now, sitting on the battlements, nothing but his own breathing to listen to. And when he hears footsteps approaching, he looks up, expecting it to be Scout, but realizes all over again that he's gone.

Gone.

It's Medic, checking up on him. He says hello, to which Sniper grunts. And he just stands there. Watching him. Thinking what to say. He's obviously wondering what happened that morning, but he won't say it out loud.

Eventually he leaves. Sniper doesn't remember what was spoken. If they even spoke.

Nothing happens the rest of the day. In the evening, he doesn't even go to eat. Just shuffles back to his room, falls on his bed, and sleeps.

Tries to sleep.

Gives up.

Stares into darkness.

It's quiet.

* * *

He is woken from his half-slumber by the sirens. The sirens of battle resonating through the base, through the floorboards. Sniper groans under his breath as he stands, realizing only now that he never changed out of his uniform. At least he's ready. He grabs is rifle and puts his kukri on his belt before making his way to the medic bay.

And it begins like every other battle. A rush of energy as the final siren rings, the enthusiastic yells of those who are not threatened by the concept of pain and respawn, the fading of voices as they all go seperate ways.

Sniper heads straight for the battlements, knowing that he'll be able to kill a few of the BLUs before they can even cross the bridge. As expected, he sees one right away. Their Pyro exits through the doorway on the left. He's oblivious.

So as always, Sniper raises his rifle to his eye. As always, he steadies his aim, closing in on his enemy's skull. As always, he waits for an opportune moment.

A flash of blue in the top right of his scope. Getting closer.

On instinct, the bushman brings his sniper up, barely even aiming before firing a shot that rings deafeningly around him. But the sound of the shot is nothing like the dying scream that bursts forth from his victim's throat before his body falls limp, bullet tearing clean through his cranium as his voice becomes nothing but the gurggling of a fresh corpse.

Sniper's senses kick back in after that split second of adrenaline, and what he sees makes him go ashen white.

It's Scout's corpse.

Body lying in an awkward way, the back of his skull blown out, eyes open and almost crossed as if to stare in shock at the bullet hole in the center of his forehead. It's all the Aussie can do to keep from throwing up right on the spot.

But then the body fades away as Scout is taken back to respawn, nothing left but blood to mark his temporary grave.

Before Sniper understands what he's doing, he's in the medic bay, leaning against the wall with one hand as he bends over and dry heaves. He just… he just killed Scout. _Killed him._ Respawn is working, sure, but what if it wasn't? What if he actually murdered him?

Shit. Battle is supposed to be a release. A place where Sniper can forget his worries and let the rush of war blur any thought besides objective. And that's what he did. As he woke he forgot about Scout. Forgot how he was on the other team. Forgot he was autobalanced.

Forgot about the night of the autobalance.

But now it's the only thing that plagues him. He's never had to kill a friend before… at least, as far as he knows. There were no memories to make him hesitate. No bonds.

Now there is. And Sniper wonders if he could handle that. Having to kill someone he knows. Someone who's a friend.

Someone who's maybe more.

* * *

Time passes, as it always does, and with time comes healing.

Yet there is no healing.

After that first incident of killing Scout, Sniper avoids him. If he sees him approaching, likely with the intent to kill, he flees to the medic bay. He knows that Scout will respawn if he kills him, but he still refuses. He knows it still hurts. He knows there is tremendous pain.

And yes, with the intent to kill. It takes Sniper a few battles to accept that.

That he doesn't remember.

At first he think it's because he does, and he's angry about what happened that night. But it's not. He can see the lack of emotion in his eyes every time he sees him. No anger, no sadness, no guilt… just objective.

He tries to tell himself that it's no use. To let go. Yet he can't.

And then it happens, a month after that first battle. Too soon. Too soon for Sniper.

Sudden Death.

It's a terrible sight when someone's body doesn't dissapear after those few moments of being dead. It means that they don't respawn. That they're dead forever.

So when RED's Soldier doesn't vanish, everyone is panicking, including the BLUs. They scream to anounce Sudden Death, both teams retreating in fear of getting shot. But the battle isn't over. They're just recuperating, getting ready. Planning.

A familiar silence settles over the forts.

It takes a while, but RED decides to strike first. They gather up their courage and leave the base. Most of them do. Heavy, Medic, Pyro and Spy make their way across the bridge, leaving Sniper, Engineer and Demoman as defense. A sentry is set up on the wooden platform over the courtyard, and a minefield ready in the basement thanks to Demo, incase they're able to get through that first obstacle. Sniper is on the battlements, keeping watch.

Gunfire and explosions are heard within the opposing base, so Sniper waits. Listens. It could be any moment that an enemy tries to retreat from their own base, or a Spy attempts to cross the bridge cloaked while making as little sound as possible with each step.

But a while passes. No action besides the battle inside BLUs fort.

A gunshot. Gunshots. Not blended with the others. Under him, on the main floor. Then, Engineer grunting in pain.

Sniper rushes to the left side of the battlements, passing the medic bay and bounding down the steps into the courtyard. When he turns into the front of the main floor, he sees him. Engineer, limping back from the sewer, hand on his stomach as he bleeds through his shirt and pant leg. He's cursing under his breath, struggling to even stand.

"Christ, what happened?" Sniper breathes as he rushes over and wraps a hand around his ally's waist, using the other to bring the man's arm behind his neck, careful not to agitate the bullet wounds. The Texan sighs with relief at the support. They make their way slowly back up the steps, and after a moment Engineer is sitting on the wooden floor next to his dispenser. "Well?"

"S-Scout in our sewer," he chokes out, "Took care of him though. He's bleedin' out somewhere. Should be… dead in a couple minutes."

The world suddenly becomes dark. He can barely contain the horror spreading across his face. His heart is racing. Mouth open, eyes wide behind his aviators. _No. Nonono._

"Sniper?" Engineer's voice snaps him back from his moment of panic. "You alright?"

The bushman sets his mouth into a straight line, hiding all evidence of his anxiety.

"Yeah. I just… need to do something. You stay here." Before Engineer can protest, Sniper leaves. Down the steps, through the main floor, towards the sewer.

For a second he thinks he's too late. It's quiet when he steps through the doorway and stands at the top of the stairs. There is no swish of water. No footsteps. No sign of life. Despite himself, he feels tears sting the corner of his eyes…

A whimper.

His breath catches in his throat. He thinks he imagined it… but then there's another sound. Wheezing. Struggling to breathe. He makes his way down the steps onto the platform in the center, and when he turns he sees him.

Scout sitting near the bottom of the steps, just above the water, his back against the wall. There's a pistol in his right hand, his left pressed against his chest. Blood seeps from his mouth. From holes in his arms. Pools beneath him, leaking into the water.

Sniper approaches slowly, but the shuffling of his feet gives him away. Scout's head snaps towards him, pistol following the action. He stops. The BLU tries to look threatening. Angry. Tough. But he's shaking and his eyes are wide. He's afraid.

"Get the fuck away." he hisses, but it comes out muffled, like Sniper's hearing it from a record player. The Aussie raises his hands in defense.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, kid." he whispers back. To make his point, he crouches down slowly, places his rifle and kukri on the ground, stands back up and nudges them so that they slide a few feet away. Scout furrows his brows, confused. He narrows his eyes into slits.

"I'm not stupid," he spits, but Sniper can see his fingers shaking. He frowns.

"Does it matter? You're as good as dead anyway." His own words make bile rise in his throat. He doesn't want to believe it. But Scout seems to consider them. His face slackens slightly, scowl becoming a depressed frown. He knows he's telling the truth.

The moment he lowers his gun, Sniper rushes to him, kneeling down and pulling a rag from his belt. He wipes the blood from his chin and his arms. He feels Scout's baffled eyes watching him, wondering.

"Move your hand," the bushman demands. It takes a second for the boy to process his request. When he does his hand falls limply to his side.

Blood. Lots of blood. It's as though his hand was holding all of it back, because suddenly it's pouring through his shirt, dripping down his torso and seeping through the material in thick rivulets. Sniper panics and presses the rag hard against his chest. Scout tries to say something, but instead he coughs. A wave of pain makes his body shiver. He whimpers again.

"Don't," Sniper almost sobs, "Just… don't talk."

But he does. One word.

"Why…?"

The RED looks at him then. With that same look back in the courtyard, before he was autobalanced. But that look is mixed with sadness. Pleading. _Don't you remember? Anything?_

He doesn't. But there is recognition in his eyes. Without words, he knows. Knows that Sniper remembers him. That's all he needs. He's calm. Understanding. Sniper's mouth sets into a thin line.

"Here." The Aussie takes Scout's free hand and places it against the rag still pressed against his chest. "Hold this."

Weakly, he does. Sniper moves around him and picks him up off the ground.

"Wh-" Scout coughs again. Doesn't bother finishing what he was going to say. It hurts too much.

"You need a Medic."

He doesn't go through the sewer. There's no way he can swim through the waterway while carrying Scout. So he climbs back up the stairs, through the front and towards the bridge. He can still hear the sounds of battle in the BLU base. RED isn't backing down. No one is around to see him.

Sniper crosses the bridge quickly, going up the small ramp and into the left entrance of the enemy's fort. But that's as far as he can go. If he goes any further he'll be at risk of getting spotted. As if he isn't already.

He places Scout down gently, leaning his back against the wall. His hand is going slack, almost letting go of the cloth. Eyes half-lidded. Gaze distant. Sniper panics. He pats him on the cheek, using his other hand to hold Scout's against the cloth.

"Come on, mate. Stay with me. You need to stay awake." He pats him harder, almost slapping, urgency in his voice. His eyes open a little wider, hand gaining a little strength. But he still looks distant. Focusing on Sniper seems impossible. "Alright. Just one thing and you'll be okay. Call for the doc."

Scout looks afraid. It hurts to speak, let alone scream. Sniper frowns.

"Come on, kid. You want to die?" Sniper regrets asking that. Maybe he's in so much pain that death seems like the best escape. But Scout's ego wins. And Sniper can just imagine his thoughts.

_Dying's for cowards._

He shakes his head and takes a deep breath. And he screams.

"_Medic!"_

The scream is terrifying. Sniper can feel the raw agony in it. The desperation. And maybe the BLU Medic can feel it too, because Sniper hears footsteps approaching within seconds, accompanied by that familiar accent calling out for the Bostonian. He looks at the Scout one more time, trying to smile a bit, but instead his mouth is set in a thin line.

He leaves.

When he gets back, he feels exhausted. Engineer looks at him suspiciously when he enters the courtyard.

"Where you been?" the mechanic asks. Sniper stops and stares at him. There's anger in the taller man's eyes. Frustration. Engineer raises a brow. _You almost killed him,_ Sniper wants to say, _he almost died because of you._ But he doesn't. He covers up his anger with something else.

"He got away."

* * *

The night is quiet. RED lost their Soldier, but they managed to kill BLU's Engineer. An eye for an eye. The teams are still even. No autobalance.

So it's a regular night. Some of them are mourning for their lost teammate. Some are already alseep. Sniper?

He sits on the battlements. There is no cigarette in his hand. No alcohol. No gun or rag. He just sits. And stares off. Into the distance. The stars.

He can't sleep. Not after today. Not after what happened to Scout.

The kid almost died. And what if he wasn't there? What if he didn't bring him back to his base? Even so, what if he'd been too late? If Scout's dead because Medic couldn't help him?

That's all he can think about. Because maybe it's better if he's gone. Maybe he can finally let go. Let go of that stupid hope.

And then he's cursing himself for thinking something like that. The process repeats.

He wants to stop thinking. Wants to forget about today. He sighs to himself and lowers his hat over his eyes. _Go to sleep. Go to sleep. Go to sleep._

"Hey."

Sniper jumps, hat falling from his head as he reaches for the kukri that lay beside him. But when he looks up, he freezes.

It's Scout. He stands a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest. He's not armed.

The Aussie blinks at him, unbelieving. Is he imaging this? Is he asleep and just dreaming? No. He's not. Scout's shirt is blue.

"What do you want?" he whispers, cautious. Scout stares down at him, scowling. But then he sighs and his hands fall to his sides, looking defeated.

"I remember."

Sniper's breath catches in his throat.

"… What?"

"I… I don't know, man! I had this dream and I don't even think it's something that actually happened and anyway you saved my ass and I just figured maybe the dream was real but I'm not sure so I came here to ask but now I think I'm just being stupid." Scout takes in a long breath. "Nevermind, I'm just gonna go." He turns to leave.

"Hold on." Scout stops and turns back. "What was your dream?"

His eyes shift away and his scowl becomes a defiant pout. "Nothing, faggot."

Sniper grins. He knows exactly what it was. He rests his back against the wall and brings his legs up a bit. "Come 'ere, mate," he says, patting the spot just in front of himself. Scout looks disgusted. He rolls his eyes. "Crikey, m'not going to bite you. Just figured you want a place to sit if you're stayin'."

And he lets that 'if' hang in the air. Because Scout doesn't have to stay. It's his choice. But he wants him to stay.

Scout hesitates. But only for a second. He walks over to him and plops himself down between the bushman's legs, leaning his back against his chest. Sniper's body stiffens.

"What? You offered," Scout states. And Sniper chuckles, because it's true. He just wasn't expecting him to accept the offer as quickly as he did.

Maybe this is his way of saying thank you.

For a few minutes they're silent. But it's a pleasant silence. Because it's not just his own breathing that Sniper is listening to. He sighs and lets his head lean forward, nose and mouth grazing Scout's short brown hair.

"S'quiet around here without you." he mutters half-heartedly. Scout scoffs.

"I know." Sniper is taken back a bit. No witty comment? No mocking? That't not like Scout. Maybe… maybe he remembers more than just that night. "Hey…

"You know any constellations?"

Sniper's grin widens. He only knows that word because he told him.

And it doesn't matter that they're on different teams. It's just a label now.

Because they have their memories.

"Why you want to know? Didn't think you'd like that kind of thing." An echo of his own words.

Scout smiles, and finishes that echo.

"Yeah, well… I want to stay awake."

**A/N: **Thank you for reading! Reviews are always appreciated and given a reply~


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